Carter raced through the end zone. The man in the striped shirt threw his hands up. The sound returned. He flipped the football to the man and turned, scanning the metal bleachers of the old city stadium. It was half-full, but they were cheering – they were definitely cheering. The afternoon sun peeked through the scattered clouds. The clock on the scoreboard was 0:00. His teammates had already started spilling onto the field. His fellow defenders that he’d left in the dust on his jaunt to the end zone caught up to him, burying him in the middle of a huddle of hugs and head slaps. It was a meaningless touchdown in a meaningless game, but it didn’t feel that way.
After post-game handshakes, Carter and his teammates meandered toward the home bleachers. On his way, he was stopped by an older dark-skinned coach with a wiry build.
“Helluva season, Wheeler.”
Carter smirked, his blue helmet in hand. “It would have been nice to win a few more.”
“We’re a young team.” The coach laughed. “Well, everyone except you and me.”
Carter chuckled. “Come on, Coach, I’m not that old. I have been meaning to ask you what it was like playing in a leather helmet.”
“I see,” Coach Clay said grinning. “Old man’s got jokes now. You’re lucky I can’t make you run anymore. You will be gettin’ my coffee though.”
Carter shook his head with a smile. “And here I thought I was done with initiations.”
“New coach gets coffee.”
Carter held out his hand. “Thanks, Coach … for everything.”
The old coach shook his hand. “It’s been my pleasure, son.”
Carter continued toward the home bleachers. David and Jill Wheeler stood behind the short chain-link fence that separated the game from the fans. They wore matching Richmond Spiders Football sweatshirts. David’s forehead had grown past the middle of his head, and what was left was salt and pepper. Jill took good care of herself, but time marched on, adding wrinkles to her face and gray to her hair.
Carter walked off the grass, across the swathe of asphalt that circled the football field. He stopped at the fence. David and Jill were on the other side, beaming ear to ear. Carter shook David’s hand and hugged Jill.
“You played such a great game,” David said. “You should have seen your mother on the touchdown. She was jumping up and down screaming.”
Carter laughed. “I can picture it. I didn’t hear anything though.”
“I think everyone else did,” David said with a grin.
Jill mock-frowned and tapped the top of his hand like he was an unruly child. “I wasn’t that loud.” She turned to Carter. “We’re just so proud of you, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom, it means a lot.”
David pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “So, when do you start recruiting?”
“They want me on the road as soon as finals are over,” Carter replied.
“Have you thought about the graduation ceremony? I know the fall term isn’t a big deal, but we’d like to see you walk.”
“I haven’t even thought about it.”
“Your mom and I have been talking.” David glanced at Jill, then back to Carter. “We’d like to have a graduation party for you.”
“That’s really nice, but …” Carter thought of Ben. “That sounds great, Dad. I can’t wait.”
“It’s settled then,” Jill said, smiling. “Is there anyone special you’d like to invite?”
“Maybe just Devin and Rochelle,” Carter replied. “We can keep it small.”
“And their boys,” Jill said. “They are so adorable.”
“Speaking of Devin,” David said, “did you get a chance to see him? He was here.”
“No, he didn’t tell me he was coming.”
“He’s right over there, talking to Coach Clay,” Jill said, pointing across the field.
Carter glanced over his shoulder at Devin and Clay. “I should go say hello,” Carter said.
Before leaving his fan club, Carter confirmed the place and time for their postgame dinner. He hugged Jill once more and shook David’s hand before heading across the tarmac back toward the field. Devin was already strutting his way toward him with a wide grin on his face. He wore an old blue windbreaker with a miniature Richmond football helmet stitched into the upper right corner. Carter held out his hand, but Devin hugged him, smacking him on the back.
When Carter pulled away, Devin said, “You know you broke my record.”
“What record?”
He smiled. “Longest interception return for a touchdown. Mine was ninety-nine yards. Yours had to be at least a hundred and two.” He chuckled. “You should have knocked the damn thing down. You’re such a showboat.”
Carter laughed.
“I mean who in the hell picks off a Hail Mary pass in the end zone when the opponent’s down by four. But no, not only do you pick it off, but you gotta run it back a hundred yards. That was some Deion shit, you know that.”
Carter shook his head, grinning. “I thought about downing it.”
“Yeah, but you saw all that green.” Devin laughed. “You looked pretty fast for an old man.”
Carter smiled. “Just to give you a heads up, Jill and David are gonna throw me a graduation party. I’d like for you and Rochelle and the kids to come.”
Devon nodded. “We’ll definitely be there.”
“I wanted to thank you. None of this would have happened without you.”
Devin shook his head. “I just opened the door. You had to do the work.”
“It must have been a heavy-ass door.”
After saying goodbye to his friend, Carter strolled to the end zone. He scanned the stadium; it was mostly empty and quiet. His eyes settled on the field. The grass was thinner in the middle. Rays of sun cut through the scattered cloud cover. He stood for a moment. He smiled to himself and walked off the field for the last time. He continued through the open chain-link gate to the bleachers. The locker room was under the stands. He entered through an open roll-up door and strolled inside, his helmet in hand. He borrowed some scissors from the training room on the way to his locker.
In the locker room, many players were already showered and dressed. They had parties to attend. The air was humid from the showers. It smelled like sweat and soap and mold, with a spritz of cologne. Carter opened his metal locker and hung his helmet. He unlatched his shoulder pads and pulled his jersey – number twenty – and his pads off at the same time. He grabbed the scissors and sat down on the wooden bench. Carter cut the white tape that covered his shoes and ankles. He removed his cleats and set them in the bottom of his locker.
A dark-skinned young man wearing a towel tapped Carter on the shoulder as he walked by. “Nice game O.G.,” he said.
“You too,” Carter replied.
Carter continued undressing, before slipping on his flip-flops and trudging to the shower bank. He stopped at the line of sinks and mirrors. He grabbed a paper towel from the metal dispenser and dampened the paper under the faucet. He looked in the mirror. Black charcoal and wax were smudged in a thick line under each of his blue eyes. His jaw was a little stronger and stubble grew on his face and neck, but in many ways he still felt young, like his time away had simply been a press of the pause button. He spent several minutes wiping the black grease from his face.
After showering and changing into his street clothes, Carter tossed his laundry bag in the bin and strolled into the asphalt parking lot. His duffel bag was slung over his Richmond football windbreaker. He wore a blue knit cap with a red spider stitched into the front. A woman sat on the tailgate of his old pickup truck. Her glasses were small, black rimmed, stylish. Her red hair was shoulder length, wavy. Her lips were full, her face pale and young. She wore a skirt suit with heels and thick tights. She gripped a handheld recorder. At the sight of him, she stepped off the tailgate and brushed off the back of her skirt.
She bit the corner of her lower lip as he approached. Carter’s stomach was turning on the inside, but he mainta
ined a calm exterior.
“Hi,” she said.
He ignored her greeting, dropped his bag and pulled her into a hug. She reciprocated. After a moment they disengaged.
His eyes were wide as he looked her over. “Sarah … wow, I’m surprised.”
She smiled, her eyes glassy. “Is that a good surprised or a bad surprised?”
“It’s good.” Carter shook his head. “It’s just I haven’t seen you since …”
“I went to Northwestern.”
He paused as he processed the information. “Nine years ago.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She sucked in her lower lip and pushed it out. “I also know that sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I guess I was right. You remember the fight we had on Valentine’s Day?”
“Wow, Carter Lynch, do you forget anything?”
He laughed. “I said Northwestern would be the end of us, and I guess I was right.” His smile faded.
“You weren’t right about everything that night.”
“I wasn’t?”
“You said you were destined for failure. You were definitely wrong about that.”
“Wow, Sarah Cunningham, do you forget anything?”
“Technically it’s Sarah Burns.”
“Technically it’s Carter Wheeler.”
She smiled wide. “Which I love by the way. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you.”
“So, what are you doing in Richmond, Sarah Burns? I can’t imagine you came all the way down here to catch up.”
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I write human interest stories for The Post.”
He smiled. “I am aware. I read all your stuff.”
“I thought you didn’t like the news.”
“I don’t. I just read your stuff.” He narrowed his eyes. “I can’t imagine you came all the way down here from The Washington Post to watch a 1-AA team go four and seven.”
“Actually I did. And for an interview with you?” She winced.
“About what?”
“About you, about what you went through with the stuff at North Potomac and prison and how good you’ve done here.”
He exhaled, his excitement deflating with his breath. “Not sure I wanna dredge all that up. You should have called first.”
She half-smiled.
“That’s why you didn’t call. You figured I’d be more likely to say yes in person.”
“Does that make me a terrible person?”
“Pushy maybe, and a good reporter, but not a terrible person.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “So you’ll do it?”
“I’m not that easy.” He grinned. “I am cheap though, and a poor student for another couple weeks. Why don’t you buy me some coffee and if you answer all my questions, I’ll answer yours.”
“Fair enough,” she said.
* * *
Carter and Sarah sat in a window booth in a quiet diner. Sarah’s hand-held recorder sat on the table in front of her. Carter finished the last of his cheeseburger.
“Aren’t you supposed to go to dinner?” Sarah asked.
He swallowed. “It’s not for a few hours. I’ll eat again.”
She shook her head with a smile. “I’m going to go ahead and start recording if that’s okay with you. Do you mind if I ask the first question?”
“Go ahead,” he said.
She pressed a button on her device. “What was the toughest thing that you went through in prison?”
He thought for a moment. “You remember how I told you that the predators in prison try to test all the new guys?”
She nodded. “I remember.”
“I had a cellie.”
“Cellie?”
“A cellmate.”
“Got it.”
“This was toward the end of my sentence,” he said. “My original cellmate was a good guy. He was in for voluntary manslaughter. His name was Jarrod. Some dude groped his girl at a club. They had words. Later when they were leaving, this dude wanted to fight him. Anyway, Jarrod ended up killing him in the fight. It was a freak accident. He knocked him out and the guy hit his head on the sidewalk. Anyway, he got out about a year before I was supposed to get out. I was hoping that they would leave me in my cell alone, because I didn’t wanna get used to another cellie. I mean, I heard some horror stories from some of the guys I was friends with. Nasty stuff like guys not keeping up with their hygiene. Some sexual assaults. Anyway, they did send me a fresh fish.”
She raised her eyebrows. “A fish?”
“Someone fresh to the prison system.”
She nodded.
“He was a young guy too – Josh. He was drinking and driving and killed someone. The judge threw the book at him – ten years. He was eighteen, and I think that’s why they put him with me. I think they thought I would understand. Anyway, Josh was miserable. He was crying at night. I tried to tell him not to do that, because the other guys could hear him. So I had this eighteen-year-old kid that was falling to pieces, and the predators were licking their chops. This kid really had the prison deck stacked against him. He already had one strike against him because he was white. He had another strike because he was small and weak, and another because he was crying and acting like a punk.” Carter took a deep breath. “So, I did my best to protect him. I introduced him to my friends and asked them to look out for him. I took him to the weight pile with me to lift. And it worked … for a while. Nobody touched him for like, eight months. Everyone started to like him too. He was actually really funny.” Carter bit the inside of his cheek.
“And after the eight months?” Sarah asked.
“He got cocky. He thought we had his back. He started gambling, betting on football games. He got in over his head and he tried to get out of it by doing what gamblers do.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows.
“He double-downed on the Super Bowl, betting on the Packers to win and cover twelve points. Green Bay was supposed to be a lock. They were the defending Super Bowl champs. Denver had never won a Super Bowl. In fact, they had lost four of them. A lot of people said Elway would never win one. An AFC team hadn’t won in thirteen years. And to top it off, Denver was a wildcard team, and a wildcard team had only won a Super Bowl once. Everyone thought Green Bay was gonna blow ’em out. Of course Denver upset Green Bay and Josh had a debt he couldn’t repay.” Carter frowned and gazed at his hands.
“What happened?” Sarah asked.
Carter looked up, his face expressionless. “He was gang-raped and murdered.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. She placed her hand over her open mouth. “That’s awful.”
“It felt like Ben all over again.”
She placed her hand back on the table, and pressed her lower lip out in commiseration.
“That’s prison. You don’t accept favors and you don’t get into debt.”
“What happened after you got out? Did the Wheelers take you in? I’m assuming you finished high school in prison.”
Carter shook his head with a smirk. “Unh uh … I answered your question, now you have to answer mine.”
She matched his smirk. “You’re right. Let me have it.”
Carter swallowed. “Why didn’t you ever come back?”
She stared at the table. “I knew you would ask that.”
“Of course I’m gonna ask that.”
She looked up. “It was too painful. I just wanted to forget. It was also because …” She winced. “I met someone.”
He nodded. “I figured.”
“I was stupid and young. I just didn’t know how to deal with any of it.” Her eyes were glassy. “I’m really sorry. I was a coward.” She gazed out the window as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I still think about it to this day. I should have just pretended that the Northwestern scholarship didn’t exist. I should have stayed.” A few tears spilled down her face. She made no attempt to remo
ve them. “It was like all these bad pieces had to fall into place for that to happen, and if I had just taken out one small piece, things could have been different.” She grabbed a napkin from the metal dispenser on the table and wiped her face. She looked at Carter. “I was wrong. What I did was selfish and wrong. And I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you that a long time ago, but the more time that went by the harder it was to admit what I had done. It was easier to do nothing, to move on with my life. I mean, I was eighteen and in a new state for the first time, with tons of new people, people like me.” She dabbed her eyes, sighed, and forced a smile. “I was surprised you didn’t tell me to fuck off in the parking lot.”
He chuckled. “I was angry when you didn’t visit that first Christmas, but my mother told me something that day that I’ll never forget.”
She furrowed her brow. “Your mother came to visit?”
“Sorry, I mean Mrs. Wheeler. I haven’t seen Grace since she stole my money and pointed that gun at me.”
A waitress in black pants and a white shirt ambled toward them. “Can I take that?” she asked Carter. He handed her his empty plate.
With the waitress out of earshot, Carter continued, “Mrs. Wheeler told me that we never know how long someone’s gonna be in our life. We just have to love and appreciate them in the time we have. Our situation may have seemed like this terrible thing that never happens to anyone. But the truth of the matter is we weren’t unique. This stuff happened to about every guy I was in with. When they first got in, people would visit … friends, family, girlfriends. The visits would be less frequent over time. Eventually, people would simply stop coming. Guys would get Dear John letters.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “You shouldn’t be sorry for living your life. I’m glad you did. I mean look at you. You’re the best journalist in D.C., you look beautiful, you’re married.” He smiled. “When I said that I was gonna be happy for you, I meant it. I’m just glad we had the time together that we did.”
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